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Copy 1 



SERMON, 



OV THE 



LIFE AND DEATH 



OF 



HENRY CLAY, 

HEFORE 

THE YOUNG MEN OF NEWARK, N.J. 

PKKACHED, 

AT THEIR REQUEST, 

IN 

'%\)t fUim of l^rntjer," 

JULY 25th, 1852, 
BY 

REV. SAMUEL L. SOUTHARD, A. M. 



ALFRED U. ROGERS, NEWARK, K. J. 
1852. 



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^ffifS 



MKRCURY OKFICE PRINT NEWARK, N. J. 



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N'r.w AKK, ./»/// t'l///, 1K.')2. 

IJr.V. SaMI KI. ]j. SoUTIIARI), 

Jiedor ,>/ " '/'//,• Iluuse of Prayer "; 
Rr.v'n AM) DKAH Sir, — 

IJeing desirr)u.s of cvinoiiifr in some 
suitable manner, our respctt for the eminent civilian whom 
" the TIiL'h and ^liirhty lliilcr of th(> Universe" has rccciitlv 
called to His rest, and believing that there can be no more 
appropriate way in which to honor the dead, than by calling to 
our aid one of the ministers of that' Holy Religion which 
supported him when earthly things were passing away — re- 
spectfully request that you will, — at evening service on the day 
appointed by the City authorities for the observance of tlie 
obsequies of Henry Ci.av, at " The House of Prayer," or in 
such other edifice, and upon such other occasion as shall best 
suit your convenience, deliver a sermon or an eulogy upon the 
great man, who after long serving his country well, has gone 
down to the house appointed for all the living, in the hope of a 
blessed immortality. 



A. W. ^VALI)I?()X, 
THOS. 11. bTi:rilKNS, 
CILVS. K. BISHOP, 
GEO. M. ROBI-SOX, 
THOS. T. KINNKV, 

ALEX, rooi^ 

CHAS. 0. BOLLES. 
DAN. DODD, Jr., 
DEN .MS OSBORN. 
WATERS!'. AV1L1J.\MS 
r. C. GARTHWAITi; 
FRED. G. SCRHiA, 
HENRY G. D.\R(V, 
THEn. RI.WO.N, 
WM. HENRY CAMP. 



JOHN R. WEEKS, 
JOHN W. GARTH WAITE 
WM. S. FAITOLTE 
JOSEPH L ALDEN, 
JOHN CllADWICK, 
GEO. C. TIIORIJIRN, 
JOHN SP]{OSTON, 
HENRY W. DIRYEE, 
THOS. A. STAYNER, 
J NO. J. YOl N(;. 
AV.M. CLEVELAND, 
WM. M. LEWIS. 
11. K. LMMtAHAAr, 
W.M. GAH'llIWAlTi; Jr.. 
JONATJIA.N J;ilH). 



Newark, 2d Aug. 1852. 
To Messrs. Camp, Scriba, and Gtarthwaite, Committee of 

the Young Men of Newark : 
Gentlemen, — 

I have been t^irice touched ; by your favour, and 
your partiality. Once, when you asked me to address you. 
And, now, when you have asked the privilege to print what I 
delivered. 

I accede to your request. The same motives which induced 
me to attempt to gratify jour wish, that I should preach to 
you on the occasion of the death of a great man, whom I had 
known — now make me furnish you a copy for its publication. 
My great desire is, that it should help those, who are ambi- 
tions to be eminently great, to believe, that, they will be ex- 
pected to be practically good. 
I remain. 

Very sincerely. 

Your friend, 

SAMUEL L. SOUTHARD. 



TO 

"THE YULWG ME\ OF XKWARK." 

■WHO, 

IN RECENT YEARS, 

BY 

TIIKJK DEVOTKJN TO TUP: CAUSE, 
OF LEARNING AND RELIGION, 

AND OF ART, 
HAVE BECOME KNOWN, 

BEYOND THE LIMITS OF THEIR CITV 

THIS EFFOKT, 

TO BENEFIT AND I'LEASE TIIEM, 

18, 

WITH MUCH PLEASURE, 

AND WITH GKATITl'DE, 

INSCRIBED. 



" Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way r by 
taking heed thereto according to thy word." — Ps. xix. 9. 



" The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the 
way of righteousness." — Prov. vL 31. 



SERMON. 



"Grant that those my two sons, niny sit, the one on tliy right hand, 
nnd tlic other ou the left, in thy kingdom" — St. Matt. xx. 21. 

Truly, "the last enemy that shall be destroyed 
is Death !" By a single stroke, of his, a whole 
nation is bereaved ! 

Our ears are filled with the still lingering sound 
of the funereal strains of music, and the sad tones 
of bells. A pall, of sadness, has been sjDread upon 
a people's heart — as if all hearts were one! 
Throughout the length of this extended country, 
and in all the bosoms of its population, one grief 
is known, one death is wept, one name is honored! 
One deep drawn sigh has heaved the full breast of 
this entire nation, and millions of the heads of 
freemen, bow, in the act of resignation to the will 
of God — as if the cedars of his Lebanon, or the 
mighty forest of his Carmcl, were bending, at the 



10 



breathing of His tempest, or, at the bidding of 
His word ! In the nation's falhng tears, there is 
the drenching rain of sorrow ; and, in that uni- 
versal sigh, the token of submission ; and, in that 
act of resignation to the will of Providence, there 
is a true religion ! 

No deeper woe has ever touched "the electric 
chain " wherewith a nation may be bound ! It 
came not unperceived. The cloud, freighted with 
its dark tidings, had been noticed in the sky ; and 
the eyes of millions watched it as it deepened, and 
then settled down upon the object of its mission, 
till the stroke was given ; and the lightning flash 
was carried by a thousand lines, and reproduced 
its fearful light in every corner of the land ! 
Men knew, at the same time, at the remotest 
bounds of the great country he had served, that 
Henry Clay was gone ! Gone, from the theatre 
of his exertions and renown ! Gone, from the 
counsels of the nation, which he had so many 
times directed and adorned ! Gone, from the 
country, on whose highest interests he had en- 
graved his name ! Gone, from the people, with 
whose liberty he had forever linked his fame ! 
Gone, from the countless eyes which ever watched 
his coming ; and whose admiration kindled, and 



not lessened, at the appearing of liis manly form ; 
and whose earnest gaze lirst eaught, and then sent 
baek again, the brightness of his own ! Gone, 
where the countless liands, whose welcome he had 
known might not draw nigh, as yet, to take his 
hand again ! Gone, so that, never more on earth, 
their sympathies miglit be awakened, and their 
love of country roused, their deepest feelings 
stirred ; or else, their rising passions quelled ; by 
his pathetic voice, by his commanding tone ! 
Gone, from among the living ! Gone, to the 
Paradise of God ! Gone, where the dead repose ! 
Gone, from the country's firmament ; from its 
bright galaxy of living ornaments, and orators, 
and statesmen ; as if some brilliant star, not 
quenched, but only set, (though it should be, 
forever,) had left the admiring world without its 
beaming light ! while adding to the lustre of the 
state in which the gathered dead are resting ; and 
(though unseen by us,) relieved from every mist 
of life's infirmities, shining with greater glory, in 
the nether skv ! 

And all that remains of him on earth — his moul- 
dering body — the clay, in which his deathless spirit 
dwelt — the statue, without life — the oracle, de- 
serted of its inspiration and the power of its 



12 



speech ; — the oracle, once sought by multitudes, 
and swaying multitudes by its behests ; the oracle, 
on which the worshippers are calling now, in vain ; 
the oracle, which once had power to command — 
which moved in recognition of the offering — which 
spoke in answer to enquiry, but which, now, is 
motionless and dumb ; the form, which was erect, 
amid the wildest tempests of aggression, and in 
all the trials of the State ; the form, which rose, 
amid the mass of his associates, as his great spirit 
towered among men ; the form, which has suc- 
cumbed, at length, to age, and to disease and 
death — to the one (save by Jesus Christ,) as yet, 
unconquered, enemy of man — but which (dis- 
daining human servitude, and bowing to no man) 
had, in its vigor, with its eye undimmed, and with 
its force yet unabated, knelt before the throne ; 
the form, majestic in the field, and as commanding 
in the quietude of private life, and the secluded 
sacredness of home ; the form, wdiich bent as lowly 
in its adoration of the Deity, as it stood uplifted 
in the raging storm ; — the lifeless bod}^ of the 
Statesman and the Orator, and of the Christian 
man, has reached its resting-place — has entered its 
long home : — borne in a nation's state ; guarded 
by generous hearts and noble arms — borne, at the 



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nation's call, by some of her best citizens and most 
distinguished men — received in sackcloth every- 
where — followed by thousands of admirers and 
of friends — his person honored in his life ; his pall, 
in death, more wet with the same people's tears ! 
I am not a))le to endorse, without reserve, the 
language of a chivalrous and much-admired man, 
who helped to bear him to his sepulchre ; while 
yet it shows the evidence of the whole people's 
grief, and the sincerity and depth of the pervad- 
ing sorrow ; and it testifies to the appreciation of 
the great — and it relieves the people, somewhat, 
of the charge of their ingratitude — and it assures 
us, (after he was gone,) of his success : — " I never 
saw, at every place we reached, so many people 
mourning, and so many tears. I never saw such 
feeling. I thought that my political ambition had 
all died ; but I have seen, in this outjiouring of the 
people's hearts, something to hve for — something 
for which to die !" I appreciate the language. I 
take in the fulness of the thought. The wish, if 
I were other than I am, might be my own. But I 
am taught, and it is made my privilege to teach to 
other men, that, though the benedictions of man- 
kind are to be valued, the " well done " of God, is 
more to be desired still ; and if success attend us, 



14 

or if we shall go unhonored to the grave, the 
greater destiny remains unaltered, and the path 
of duty is the same. While, yet, I own, were I a 
public man, and called upon to die, whose race 
was run ; next to my soul's salvation and "the 
peace of God," I should appreciate and wish the 
benedictions of the free, the grateful homage of the 
many, and the heartfelt lamentations of the people, 
whose interest and happiness I had endeavored to 
promote. 

And, again, he said (when speaking to me of his 
sickness, and his resignation, and his christian 
death) — " God's kindness to him, and his prepara- 
tion, and his faith, ought to be known. God's 
mercy to him, in his lingering illness, and his hap- 
py death, ought to be preached about — ought to 
be known!" And, I answered, I have felt the 
obligation ; and as opportunity may serve me, I 
will call the attention of the people to his resigna- 
tion and his patience, and his hopeful death ! 

And now, he is no more — on earth ! His great 
career is over; his long, and earnest, and victorious 
race, is run ! The halls of Legislation shall no 
longer ring with his persuasive eloquence, nor with 
his fearful admonitions, nor with his call " to 
arms " ! His late companions shall no longer profit 



1 



15 

by his timely wisdom, nor rally round him, as 
their leader, in the hour of the country's dan^^er, 
nor hang, in charmed and breathless silence, on his 
words! The nation's council fires shall no longer 
throw their ruddy light upon his lurni ! The 
ranks of his admirers shall no longer watch, along 
the line of conflict, for the waving of his plume ! 
He has filled up the measure of his service, and 
the measure of his fame. 

And he is gone. J^ut, as another eloquently 
said, respecting the departure of distinguished men, 
" how little is there of the great and good which 
can die ! To their country they yet live, and live 
forever. They live in all that perpetuates the 
remembrance of men on earth ; in the recorded 
proofs of their own great actions — in the oflspring 
of their intellect — in the deep-engraved lines of 
public gratitude, and in the respect and homage 
of mankind. They hve in their example ; and 
they live, emphatically, and will live, in the inllu- 
ence which their lives and effbrts, their principles 
and opinions, now exercise, and will continue to 
exercise, on the affairs of men, not only in their 
own country, but throughout the civilized world. 
A superior and commanding human intellect, a 
truly great man, when Heaven vouchsafes so rare 



16 

a gift, is not a temporary flame, burning brightly 
for awhile, and then giving place to returning dark- 
ness. It is rather a spark of fervent heat, as well 
as radiant light, with power to enkindle the com- 
mon mass of human mind ; so that when it glim- 
mers in its own decay, and finally goes out in 
death, no night follows, but it leaves the world all 
light, all on fire, from the potent contact of its 
own spirit ! Bacon died ; but the human under- 
standing, roused by the touch of his miraculous 
wand, to a perception of the true philosophy and 
the just mode of inquiring after truth, has kept 
on its course successfully and gloriously. Newton 
died ; yet the courses of the spheres are still 
known, and they yet move on by the laws which 
he discovered, and in the orbits which he saw and 
described for them, in the infinity of space." And, 
we may add, that Henry Clay has died ; but the 
principles which he espoused are living ; and the 
counsels which he gave are cherished ; and the 
influence of his example will be felt ; and we be- 
lieve, as well as trust, that, while the Union shall 
continue ; while freedom, in America, shall last ; 
while regulated liberty shall have a home upon the 
earth ; his counsels will be studied — his example 
will be followed — his eloquence admired — the 






17 

imiorcss of his genius will bo seen — the influence 
of his exertions will be felt — his name in every 
school of liberty be known ! 

And he has calmly died — in the full measure of 
his days — as ripened fruit falls from the tree ! 

And he has gently died — as flowers fold their 
leaves at set of sun ! 

And he has gone to rest, as waves subside upon 
the sea! 

And he has laid him down, as victors do, whose 
race is run ! 

He died — not as the warrior, upon the field of 
carnage and of blood — but on the theatre of his 
renowned, though bloodless, victories — where all 
his battles have been fought, and all his fame was 
won ! 

He died — not all at once, in manhood, at the 
zenith of his strength — but " like the mildness, 
the serenity, the continuing, benignity of a sum- 
mer's day, he has gone down with slow-descending, 
grateful, long-lingering light." 

Young men of Newark ! 3"0u have asked me to 
preach to you, to-night, on the occasion of the 
death of Henry Clay. And though, for many 
reasons, I might well have shrunk from such a 
task, it seemed to me to be the call of duty, and I 

3 



18 

thought I could perceive in it a providential 
opportunity, for usefulness to you ; and I felt, in 
my own breast, the beating of a heart responsive 
to your own. 

But now, beyond the brief allusions I have 
made, what further shall I say ? Could I forget 
the office which I hold, and my position here, I 
might discuss his mind and eloquence, his useful- 
ness and actions, as a public man. I might enlarge 
upon the services which constitute his fame. I 
might, at least, myself, be wrapt in extacies as 
others are ; for I, too, am a man, of passions like 
your own — swayed by the breeze, and dazzled by 
the blaze, and affected by the storm. I also could 
be held in contemplation of his excellence, his 
services and his renown ! 

But, such is not my line. I am to seize on the 
religious features of his great example, and to 
press the teachings of his life, and his departure, 
home. I cannot speak of him in his more public 
character, and simply as a man. Not, that I did 
not know him, well. I knew him, from my child- 
hood, to his grave ! I knew him, as but few have 
ever known the giants of their day. I knew him, 
when the helm of State was first entrusted to his 
hand. I knew him, when he would leave the 



19 

sterner scenes of mental conflict, and tlirow off the 
crushing weight of his responsibihties, and gambol 
with me as a child. I knew him, in that public 
light, where only virtues shine — and I knew him, 
in that private light, where, only, men are known, 
I knew him, not as public men are met, on state 
occasions, and adorned with the insignia of office 
and of place, but every day. I knew him by the 
quiet hearth, where all was still ; when, wearied 
by the labors of his office — when, 
" Da}^ with its burden and heat had departed, and 

twilight descending 
BroH-ight back the evening star to the sky, and 
the herds to the homestead." 
And he 
" Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the 

flames and the smoke wreaths 
Struggled together like foes in a burning city. 

Behind him, 
Nodding and mocking along the wall, with ges- 
tures fantastic. 
Darted his own ' long' shadow, and vanished away 

into darkness." 
And I knew him, alike in my childhood and man- 
hood, as he stood, in his greatest glory, the admired 
of all, and the object of, almost, worship, on the 



20 

floor of the American Senate ! I remember his 
voice in his table-talk, and when it rang in the 
evening's diversion ; and I have heard it command 
every Senator's ear, and thrill every one of the 
people ; and it floated, upon the surrounding air, 
like strains of impassioned music ! 

I was with him, alone, in his chamber, when he 
composed his masterly speech, on the occasion of 
an imminent crisis ; and his opening words in the 
Senate were these, viz. : — "We are in the midst 
of a revolution ; hitherto, bloodless ! " Words 
which impressed every hearer ! — words, which 
never can fade from my memory's ear ! — words, 
which cannot die while I live ! — Avords, (I am sure 
that you will excuse me) repeated many times to 
his son, by my own father ! — " We are in the midst 
of a revolution ; hitherto, bloodless !" Who can 
forget the saying? Who would not be the im- 
mortal orator ? Who would not be the author of 
these words ? 

But I must choose another line ; and, in aban- 
doning his public services, in turning from the 
theatre where he acquired his renown, to speak to 
you in a religious way, and tell you of his testi- 
mony to the worth of Christianity, and his reliance 
on atoning blood, and his appreciation of an 



21 

humble piety ; I shall not only follow the sug- 
gestions of my heart, and the loud call of duty, 
but do as he would have me do, if he were living : 
for I knew him, also, as a christian man — and 1 
remember his example, and gather courage and 
encouragement (I would it might be insj)iration !) 
from the backward gaze and the devout, benign, 
expression of his shade ! If I speak not of tlie 
earthly scenes in which he has acquired his re- 
nown, I shall be speaking of severer struggles^ 
and of better victories upon another field ; wherein 
he triumphed over self, and where he won a name, 
a christian name, which will not perish ; and cre- 
ated, by his own repentance, "joy in Heaven," 
and gained a title to a better crown ! 

I shall say nothing to you, which I am not sure 
that he would of himself suggest, or else approve, 
if he were here. I am sure that he would rather 
lead you to everlasting happiness, than to the 
highest places of the earth, and to a fading wreath, 
and to a temporal glory ! I am sure that he 
would rather have you all unknown on earth, than 
have you unacknowledged in eternity. I am sure 
that he would, most of all, desire every one of you 
to shine as a particular star, when this, so tran- 
sient, flickering, life, is lost, like his, in the contin- 
uing, constant light of immortality ! 



22 

And I am glad that, in his life and death, there 
is enough of a religious character on which to 
dwell — far more than I have power to impress and 
time to tell. Had he not been a christian man — 
had he not died "in faith," I might have spoken 
elsewhere of his services, or of his eloquence, but, 
here, I had been dumb. A civil orator would 
speak to you of his abilities, and of his statesman- 
ship, and of his talents, as a man — as if (although 
unmeant,) the credit of the possession of those 
talents was his own ; while I am bound to put you 
in remembrance of that which is most commonly 
forgotten, that his talents, for your benefit, and 
for his country's service, and, consequently, for his 
fame, were all the gift of God — and that from the 
acknowledgement of this, results a debt of thank- 
fulness, not only to be spoken of, but in your dail}'- 
living to be paid, from you to Him ! 

Young men ! there is occasion for my speaking 
so. The talents of all great men are conceded, at 
least they are acknowledged, upon every hand, as 
soon as they are dead. And since the voice which, 
for so many years, had led in the debate, and 
charmed the multitudes, and plead the cause of 
human liberty, was hushed in death, a thousand 
orators have told the people of his talents, and 



23 

services, and worth ; but it becomes us to discrim- 
inate between the mere possession of sut-h gifts, 
and their improvement — and their appHcation to 
the service and the benefit of other men. How- 
ever better motives may be mingled Avitli tlio Inst 
of personal ambition ; in all those who have attain- 
ed to eminence, and been their country's pride, Ave 
must allow that those Avho have been real blessino-s 
in their day and generation, being useful to their 
country and mankind, have, in that measure which 
our frail humanity can fill, performed their duty, 
and have done the will of God, although it be 
imperfectly. But, Henry Clay was not the authoi- 
of his talents, any more than every man is his own 
father ! God gave them ! The Almighty lent 
them to him for his use. If he has been a blessing 
to the world — if he has done his generation good 
— if he has given the world occasion to rejoice 
that he has lived — God may reward him for the 
proper use of his own talents, but the praise of 
his abilities belongs to God ! Their misdirection, 
if he shall have erred, may add to his immense 
responsibility ; but the praise, that he was as he 
was, is all of God ! 

Except that man has been endowed with a su- 
blime free-agency, which renders him responsible 



24 

to " let his light so shine that other men may see," 
such praise belongs as well to every planet, and to 
every star, alone, or in a galaxy, which spangles 
the blue firmament, and glistens in the sky ! If, 
then, you have been wont to look upon him as a 
a leader — or, differing in sentiment and politics, 
you have been able, only, to concede his talent, 
and his rare abilities, and value, as a man — if you 
consider that he did his generation and his country 
honor — that he contributed, with other men, to 
our own peace and happiness, to the regulation and 
the perpetuity of liberty, to the increasing blaze 
of our own country's glory — be thankful unto 
God ; — to Him belongs the praise ! God is the 
author of all brilliant gifts, as well as of all " honest 
men." And if to " look from Nature up to Nature's 
God" — from Nature, which is ever various and 
beautiful to look upon — from Nature, which is un- 
explored in its variety — from Nature which has 
graces infinite — from Nature, which has sermons 
in its stones, and thought in every thing — from 
Nature, on each rock of which some hope is 
founded, and on every bough some pleasing fancy 
will be hung — on Nature, which is busy only with 
the finite, and which, though full of eloquence, 
has not a human tongue — if it be well to look from 



26 

Xatiirc up to Nature's God, how better, to reflect 
that he is Man's Creator, and the maker of us all ! 
Not, in their blindness and their unbelief, (because 
the clearer light of a more perfect revelation shines 
in our day) ; not, in their blindness and their un- 
belief, but in the spirit of their gratitude, who 
witnessed, at one time, the miracles of Jesus 
Christ, I feel disposed to give all praise to God, 
" who hath given such power unto men," when- 
ever I hear a useful orator, or mark the ])rilliant 
course of statesmen, or feel an, almost, reverential 
awe of a great public man ! I look upon them as 
not merely "self- created," (as is sometimes said — 
and said when all the thought is bent on the ex- 
ertions of the man) — when care is taken that all 
credit should be given which is merited (and often- 
times great credit is deserved) by their endeavors 
in the improvement of the talents which have 
been committed to their charge — but not a grate- 
ful thought is given, to the wisdom and benevo- 
lence of Him, who has dispensed his choicest gifts, 
for our benefit, and struck out such bright sparks 
of intellect in our time : I look upon them as 
not merely "self-created," but created by a power 
greater than their own ; — as being the vouchsafmgs 
of the Deity — as being the more startling tokens 

4 



26 

of Omnipotence — as being (it is reverently said) 
the seeming instances of greatest genius, in crea- 
ting ; among the highest exhibitions of His charity, 
the more brilhant corruscations of the Hght, of 
intellect, which has come down from Heaven 1 
And so, if we but think of this, and rest not in the 
man ; whenever we are struck by talents which are 
wonderful, or are arrested by the great achieve- 
ments of distinguished men, we shall be led, as 
surely as the observation of a work of man's in- 
vention leads to praise of him by whom the instru- 
ment was made, we shall be led to worship the 
Creator for His power and His love ! 

And, better than all service to the State — of 
more importance than his influence in council — 
than his efforts to secure prosperity, or to avert, 
at any time, the incalculable evils of civil or of 
foreign war — the most heroic of his acts, the 
noblest service which he rendered to his country 
and the world — the most eloquent of his appeals 
to all young men ; as patriots, to whose hands the 
destinies of the Republic are, in time, to be per- 
haps, entrusted ; as men, ambitious to be useful ; 
as men, desirous of a deathless fame ; as men, 
aspiring to true dignity ; as mortals, who must die ; 
and, as immortals, before whom is stretching on 



27 

the endless vista, of eternity — was. his testimony 
to the necessity and vakie of reUgion ! Without 
it, "talents Angel bright " may be but " shining 
instruments in false ambitious hand, to finish 
faults illustrious, and give infumy renown"! "With- 
out it, he was conscious that no one can be a man. 
Without it, he was conscious that his whole ex- 
ample was, so far, impure. Without it, he was 
conscious that he would be leading other men 
astray. Without it, he would be ungrateful for 
his gifts of wisdom and of eloquence, and of his 
power over men. Without it, the best grace 
were wanting in his character. Without it, he 
could have no real consolation in his life, and, when 
his race was i:un he must forever die ! Young 
men ! he has been lauded as a statesman : — you 
have heard, perhaps, his elocjuence ; — this, of his 
virtues was the crown ! And the greatest lesson 
of his life was this, — no man is truly great with- 
out religion ! "A Christian is the highest style of 
man." Let him be great — let him be wise — let 
him be prudent — and in the estimation of the bet- 
ter portion of mankind, and in the eye of God, he 
yet maybe a curse and not a blessing ! His efforts 
may avert some temporal evil ; and his life may 
have encouraged other men in infidelit}-, whose 



28 

recompense may be eternal ! No one can be a 
man , without religion ! No one, without it, can 
be truly great. No one, in the opinion even of the 
world, can ever be so great. And Henry Clay, 
for several years before his death, was a religious 
man. I have seen him in the Senate, all erect in 
form and carriage, in his conscious pride of in- 
tellect and of command — and I have seen him 
bending as a worshipper, and kneeling on the floor. 
I have heard him, with profound respect, in the 
great conflict of distinguished minds, where Greek 
met Greek, suggesting ways of human wisdom, 
and providing for the safety of the State. But 
I have listened to him, with still deeper interest, 
and with increased regard, and. with intenser 
feeling, as he joined in " the confession," in the 
public service of the Church ; and when relying 
on " the everlasting arms," he said, " Good Lord, 
deliver us !" With childish admiration, I ran up to 
him, as he received the plaudits of the Senate ; 
the thanks, and the congratulations, of the emi- 
nently great : — with the tribute of a christian 
manhood, I approached him, as he rose, from 
bended knees, upon his feet ! He offered, on his 
country's altar, his energies, his talents, and his 
life — but, his"ljest offering, and the sublimest act. 



29 



and the most touching scene, of his career, were, 
at the font! I thought him greater, in "the 
assembly of the saints" — than in the Senate! 
I thought him greater, in his huniihty ; in his 
acknowledgement of his dependence upon God ; 
than in his lawful pride. I thought him greater, 
when he oflered up himself, upon the altar — than 
when the masses burned their incense unto him ! 
He bore, with greater satisfaction, on his brow, 
the tracings of the cross, than the deep lines of 
thought, or title to command ! 

Young men, if you admire his career — if you 
would pay him honor — if you are willing to con- 
sult him, as an oracle — if you revere his name — 
copy his late example — hear him, in his maturity 
— hear him, as I am confident he would address 
y^ou, now ! I love the rising sun ! It breaks 
upon the night. It, all the time, increases, in its 
glory. — It is full of promise at the dawn — it floods 
the world, with light ! But, men judge better, 
of his influence, and his effect, at noon ! and 
calculate the benefit, most certainly, when he is 
going down ! Follow him, here. Follow him, 
now ! In youth, he was led on, by the bright 
sun of his ambition ! In manhood, he may have 
rejoiced, in his own strength. — The setting sun is 



9 







both my admiration and delight ! It does not 
seem to be so fired, with ambition ! It does not 
seem so anxious for the race ! It does not cast, 
upon the world, such an untempered light, such 
an untempered heat : — there is a mellowness, in 
its appearance ; there is a softness, in its light ; 
there is a mildness, in its heat ! And, now, that 
Henry Clay has gone — gather, not round his 
cradle ! Consider him in later years, when his 
full influence, and his best influence, had been 
attained — and study the mild splendor of his 
whole example, towards his " going down." 

He gave his testimony to the value of religion, 
in the right way ; not as mere declaimers do, who 
talk religiously, and speak of piety with great 
respect, (because they dare not do it with con- 
tempt,) — but, by his practice, by obedience to her 
commands. And, you need to be reminded of 
this fact, and to be rescued from the influence of 
other men. There is a way of talking of religion, 
and speaking, in round terms, and sometimes 
eloquently too, of Christianity, as the great light 
and blessing of the world ; which fills the ear, but 
not the measure of a good example ; and which 
may have a bad effect upon the young. It gives 
them the impression, that, not only do the country, 



31 

and the times, rc({uire some show of a respect lor 
piety, in every public man ; but, that, tlie hui- 
guage of respect is all that is demanded — and, 
hence, the insidious thought, (but lialf acknow- 
ledged to themselv'es,) that public men are not 
expected to be good ! AVhy they should not be, 
who is able to declare ? AVhy they may not be, 
neither are we able to discover — for, there is no 
inconsistency between the duties one may render 
to his country, and the duties of rehgion ; between 
the claims of piety, and of the state. Nay, in our 
Avay and measure, to do the state some service, (if 
it fall to our lot,) becomes a duty of religion. 
Why should they not be, who are entrusted with 
such vast, and holy interests, and are charged 
w^ith so great responsibilities ? Why should they 
not be, who are set as lights to guide the steps of 
other men ? upon whose actions there is fixed the 
steady gaze of millions, not only of the middle- 
aged, but of the ambitious, plastic, imitative, 
young? Or, is the shrine, of liberty, the only 
one, which needs no priesthood of its own ? And 
is the flame so deathless, and so pure, on freedom's 
altar, that, though fed, it may be, by unhallowed 
hands, it will burn on, by day and night, forever! 
Young men, you must be practically good, in 
order to be eminently great. 



32 

Gather we, now, around the sick bed of that 
dying man ! Who makes all his bed in his sick- 
ness ? The Almighty ! The One, of whose 
service he was not ashamed, in his health, while 
" his eye was not dim, nor his natural force 
abated," He is alone, with only those who attend 
him — shut up in his weary room — shut out from 
the theatre of his glory — shut in from the free 
air of heaven ! No crowds, now, are gathered 
before him — no Senate is hushed at his rising : — 
he moves — but his step is enfeebled : — he motions, 
but the nurse only heeds him : — he speaks, and 
his nurse only hears him ! All is gone, which 
used to arouse him. He is never more to appear 
in the Senate. All is gone, but religion ! All is 
gone, but the faith, and repentance, in which 
alone he found rest ! 

What is it, that, cheers him ? that fills up, in a 
mind such as his, the room of his labors ? that 
makes him a child in his spirit ? that makes him 
resigned to his fate ? that makes his eye calm ? 
and his voice to be always gentle ? and his pain 
to be, almost, sweet ? It is the force of religion ! 

What is he seeing? as his eye has that pleased, 
but abstracted gaze, as if looking at something 
which is not of earth, very fair, and apparent to 



I 



33 

liim ; as if in the distance? It may be "the 
intermediate state "—with its rest, and its people, 
and flowers ! It may be, a throne is in sight, 
which he hopes to inherit ! It may be, he sees, 
in a clearer light, the worth of religion. 

To whom is he speaking, when his lips only 
move, and his eye is closed, and his voice does 
not follow.? It may be, that, he is in prayer! 
" I am going !" he feels the approach ; he knows 
that the moment is coming. The vision increases, 
in Hght : — the darkness is gathering, here — and, 
there, the veil is upKfting! "I am going" — his 
words are proj)hetic ! " I am going"— he sees, 
Avhat we cannot see ! he feels, what we cannot 
know! Fancy might fly over the waters, of 
death ; and return, like the wearied dove, with 
no " leaf"! And faith might dive, in the waters, 
of death, and bring no pearl from beneath ! He 
sees, what we cannot see ! and he feels, what we 
cannot know! 

A moment more, and his words are fulfilled — 
and the christian man, and the Statesman, is gone ! 
I see him — but not near! I see him — but not 
nigh ! Young men — could you wish he had not 
been a christian man ? Was he ever more great, 
than in his sick room ? Did he not rightly die ? 



34 



His shade would reprove me, and my own con- 
science condemn me, if I did not add the advice 
to which all these remarks have been tending. 

He had faults ; — and his early life was marred 
by excesses. But, he wept over these ; and stamp- 
ed them with reprobation : — and we cannot deny 
that silence, which is bought by repentance ! 

But, in one thing, do not follow his example — • 
in putting off your repentance until you are old. 
He regretted it, while he was living — he would 
tell you so, now. He would warn you against 
the answer of youth, and of manhood, and some- 
times, of hoary age ; to the calls of the preacher, 
or the voice of the spirit — " when I am old." 
Ah, can you count upon old age ? and if it comes, 
upon the opportunity ? on the calm pulse, and 
the clear mind ? and on the lengthened day of 
grace ? and on the readiness, which we but seldom 
find? 

Besides the loss of all that might have been 
acquired for eternity, there is the dread uncer- 
tainty ! I know, at times, the mercy is vouchsafed. 
Some wait till they are old, and yet God suffers 
them to make sucli preparation for eternity, as 
justifies the hope of a happy immortality, of some 
degree of glory. The instance of that brilhant 



35 

star, wliose recent going down, in deatli, has left a 
place, to be unfilled, perliaj)s, for generations, in 
our country's sk}^ — confirms the exhaustless 
mercy, and long-suHeriug of God — but, as a rare 
exception, preaches to the young. He offered all 
he could, while yet in all the pride of manly 
intellect, and the enjoyment of renown ! The 
master mind, still in its energy, was bowed in 
awe. And the great heart, whose full pulsations 
reached the limits of the world, was bathed in 
penitental tears : — his spirit, in its strength, put 
on the garment of humility! And, there was 
granted him, some years of service. And a long, 
lingering illness, (which might gently break the 
spell of the attractions of his popularity, and the 
enchantments of the world — which ever preached 
to him, from day to day — through weakness, and 
through agony : — sometimes in tenderness, and 
then, wdth the sharp voice of its reproof: — whicli, 
as a handmaid, waited on, and served the move- 
ments of devotion ; which, as a teacher, trained 
him, for his death, and immortality :) — and, he has 
gone ; — and, " at that day," we trust that he will 
wear a crown ; — not, for his service to the State, 
but, for his penitence : — not, for his fervor, but 
his faith : — not, for his daring, but submission : — 



36 

not, for his eloquence, but his acknowledgment 

of the Redeemer, as the author of the world's 
salvation, and his own. 

• But, his was not the fate of many men. 

You cannot count upon long suffering: — you 

cannot count upon a cloudless evening sky : — 

you cannot count upon longevity ! And, from 

the dying Statesman's bed, there comes a voice, 

addressed to every being, here, " whije you 

are young :" — while you are young, enter 

the race, with the athlete ! While you are 

young, contend for mastery! While you are 

young, encourage piety ! While you are young, 

improve the time of preparation for eternity ! 

Lay hold upon the brighest crowns — lay hold 

upon the greenest palms — mount to the highest 

thrones, "while you are young!" Aye, — and, in 

time — before the tyrant death, shall lay his cold, 

and pulseless, hand, upon your beating hearts, and 

say, be still — be still! — "while you are young!" 

Salome, mother of St. James, and of St. John, 

desired, that, they might sit, the one upon his 

right hand, and the other, on the left, of the 

Redeemer, in his kingdom, (It is written in the 

gospel for the day.) Her mind was on the earth. 

She thought his kingdom would be here. And 



87 



lie replied, "ye know not what ye a.sk." "It 
shall be given unto them, for whom it is prei)ared 
of my Father!" His "kingdom is not of this 
world." It was, perhaps, a natural amhition. It 
was, no doubt, the ambition of her sons. It is, 
perhaps, the wish of, almost, every mother. It 
is, perhaps, the wish of every son. But, there is, 
yet, a better kingdom, which shall come — not 
here ! — not now ! — not of this world ! — to come ; 
when sceptres rust ; and when the bones of kings 
are mouldered into dust ! It shall prosper ! Its 
glory shall not fade ! Its crowns shall never 
wither ! Its people shall not die ! Seek, there, 
for wealth — seek there for popularity — seek there 
for fame ! (I am speaking, as it were, by the 
authorit}^ of his last years — and, ahnost, in his 
name.) Mothers, " ye. know not what ye ask," 
who only seek for temporal distinction for your 
sons. Young men, ye know not what ye ask, 
who seek for place, on earth, as the great end, of 
being ! Ye may drink, deeply, of that cup — and 
be baptized, to freedom, in your blood — but to 
sit upon the right hand, and the left hand, of the 
throne, which shall outlast republics ; which shall 
stand immoveably, alone, when time is over, and 
its kingdoms perished, and its glory gone : — by 



38 



penitence, and faith, and charity ; and, by the 
unappreciated grace of a sincere humility ; is to 
be won ! Seek there — Seek there, for endless 
peace, and endless happiness, and endless fame ! 
There is no death! All things are true. All 
things are permanent. All is "in perpetuity," in 
Heaven ! 



f 



GOD, whose days are without end and whose mercies 
cannot be numbered ; make us, we beseech thee, deeply sensi- 
ble of the shortness and uncertainty of human life ; and let 
thy Holy Spirit lead us through this vale of misery, in 
holiness and righteousness, all the days of our lives : that, 
when we shall have served thee in our generation, we may be 
gathered unto our fathers, having the testimony of a good 
conscience ; in the communion of the catholic Church ; in the 
confidence of a certain faith ; in the comfort of a reasonable, 
religious and holy hope ; in favor with thee our God, and in 
perfect charity with the world : All which we ask through 
Jesus Christ our Lord. Avutn. 



imZS^ O*" CONGRESS 



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